Auryn frowned. Thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “I am my own.”
Then, unexpectedly, Thessia smiled. “Nowthisis a twist, isn’t it?” She clapped her hands once. “But I grow bored with this chatter. Someone bring me bloodwine before I die of this mood.”
The spell broke. The men chuckled again; the tension draining into the churn of movement and banter. But Kailorien hadn’t moved a muscle. Still staring at Auryn. Still holding the bowl.
A young man sprinted toward them. He stopped right in front of Auryn, hands on his knees, breath coming in gasps.
“Paulin,” she nodded. “Are you all right?”
“Lady Sokâr,” he huffed. “It’s the horses. They’re agitated again.”
She smiled. “The gray with dapples?”
He nodded.
“I will come. How is Astenos?”
Paulin stared at her, confused. “Well as ever.”
“Then I shall bring them songs.”She turned and walked toward the stables, imagining how she would stroke the horses and their soft coats. How Astenos would nuzzle into her side in search of treats.
Behind her, Thessia’s voice rang out: “Is shebarefoot?”
She didn’t hear the smile in Resh’s voice as he replied, “Always.”
Caring for the horses helped the day pass quickly. Just as she finished brushing the last of the beasts, a Reskala ducked into the tetheryard and asked for her help with a ward at the perimeter. It was on this walk that a sound caught her attention; the clang of steel against steel ringing sharp enough to make Auryn flinch.
Curious, she made her way to the source and saw a circle of warriors gathered in the grass around a pair of combatants. She edged closer with the others, drawn to the sparks flying from the fight.
At the center of the ring, Thessia fought her Second, Talia. For a woman so tall and broad, Thessia moved with a grace that mocked her size. Each swing of her glaive cut through the air with lethal precision, the massive head glinting as though weightless in her hands.
Auryn’s breath caught at the sight—so much raw power, yet nothing wasted. The Lioness wielded a massive glaive taller than she was, yet she moved as if it were nothing more than a willow switch. One blow crashed into Talia’s shield, the younger woman stumbling to one knee, but Thessia was already pivoting, hair whipping, arms steady.
Auryn’s breath caught. This wasn’t the brutality she’d seen in Reskala drills—no wasted fury, no cruelty. Thessia fought like a lioness: power coiled into control, years of battle distilled into motion.
Talia met her blow for blow, blade flashing, shield lifted high. She was fierce, relentless, but every strike seemed only to feed her Commander’s rhythm. Thessia flowed around her, each counter effortless, each pivot certain.
Talia was a force to be reckoned with as well. Both women faced off without visible restraint—Talia jumping in with her blade, Thessia avoiding and countering with bone-crushing blows.
Then—impact. The glaive crashed into Talia’s shield with a crack that rang like thunder. The younger woman staggered to one knee, breath leaving her in a gasp, but she still smiled through the strain.
“You’ll break it!” she called, half laughing.
“You should’ve replaced it moons ago,” Thessia grunted, circling. Her voice was rough, but not unkind. “Sentiment doesn’t stop varkhounds.”
Laughter rippled through the ring, some mocking, some amused. Talia only straightened her shoulders and lifted the battered shield again, eyes shining with undimmed loyalty.
Another strike fell. The shield split down the center with a sound like bone giving way.
The jeers sharpened.
Talia lowered the broken thing, smiling still, though her eyes betrayed the sting. “It has sentimental value,” she muttered.
Thessia shouldered her weapon, resting the other on her hip. She shook her head in disbelief.
Auryn stepped forward.
Silence fell. Dozens of eyes followed her, heavy as stones, but she ignored them all.
